Painting feelings

Saturday I woke up with a pressure on my chest. That feeling lingered. My husband got home yesterday from a gig out of state, he hadn’t slept in almost 2 days. At 3:30 pm, he was in bed until this morning around 9 am.

I felt this loneliness. This void in my chest, in my life. Sometimes I feel we are closer than ever, that our marriage is stronger than ever. Then there’s days I feel the saddest person in the world. Today was one of those days.

He got up, did some car repairs and left to run errands. My heart broke. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days and as soon as he’s here he leaves again. I needed to get it out or at least attempt to. I took out a canvas and paint brushes and I started painting what I feel the most to paint, a face.

I see faces. They’re always in my head. I can’t really see their details but they’re always there. I don’t know why I avoid painting them. I started with a sad colorful man, and then did a second woman. Actually she’s also sad. All of my faces are sad. I think she’s actually a man. A clownish pathetic man. Maybe I’m afraid to paint them because they reflect something inside me. But what’s so wrong about that? I feel the need to get them out.

My husband saw the paintings when he came home. He liked them actually, I saw it in his face. It lit me up and made me emotional to think I block out what I shouldn’t. He told me I needed to paint my faces.

Today I make a promise to myself. I will paint those faces that linger and haunt me at times. Those faces that sit like shadows behind my thoughts. Those faces that laugh at me at times, the ones that cry with me and the ones that reflect that happiness, that twinkle in my eye. I will paint them. They need to see the world, and the world needs to see them. They exist for a reason and I have kept them in secret for way too long. Not anymore.

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Ayahuasca

Today I’m taking the medicine. I’ve been preparing for days. I am terrified. Maybe it will help me understand me. Maybe it will help me love me. I am scared of shitting my pants. I am afraid of having a panic attack.

Can I make it through it? What will I experience? Am I afraid of what I will discover? What I’ll discover about myself…

I don’t have any idea what will happen and at the same time I have all these things in my mind that I believe will happen.

I am confused but ready. I’ve been wanting to do this for over a year, close to two. The drive there will seem eternal. I appreciate the sky, the sun, the wind a bit more today. I look at my husband and wonder what goes on in his mind. Sometimes I feel I married a stranger. Other times that we talk and think the same things because were soulmates and eternally connected.

Aya what will you show me?

I finally picked up my brush

It feels as if when I need it the most is when I least want to pick up a brush. I know it will feel good. I know I will release any thoughts and feelings onto the canvas. But I am usually afraid of how it will turn out. I don’t understand me. Why am I so afraid of even the smallest things. I don’t consider myself a great artist, just an artist. I just paint when I feel like it because it makes me feel good. I hardly expose any of my art in my personal media. I don’t do art shows or try to sell my art. Yet I am afraid somethings to let out what I have inside and let it come alive on the canvas. How is it that I came about to live in fear? I wonder about that constantly. Something must have happened. Was it my childhood? Did someone say something to me and caused me to be a person who lives in fear?

My biggest fear when it comes to may art is having someone laugh at it. I know it’s nonsense because someone will. Anyone that paints or creates art will have someone that doesn’t like their art. But I’m still terrified.

Bruno
Lonely Bruno goes to Church

I painted him last night. My mother in law took the kids to the movies. My husband was working on his studio. The house was quiet. I could’ve finished one of the 3 books I’m reading and can’t seem to get myself to pick them up and finish them. But something called me. And I felt the urge, the URGE I should say to pick up a brush instead.

I’ve painting this guy twice, go figure. I don’t know why, it turned out very similar to the last one. I love him. He seems sad and lonely.